


Speak your Mind

by Keluturtle



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Genji is aphonic, I started to write this for one scene in particular and I haven't even gotten there yet, M/M, Rating may go up, Slow Burn, he can't talk without help from techology, it's explained later, so i guess it's probably going to be a
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-06-06
Updated: 2017-06-06
Packaged: 2018-11-09 17:53:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,603
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11109798
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Keluturtle/pseuds/Keluturtle
Summary: "The stranger watching from every other corner, rooftop, or tree branch, was clearly a foreigner. Though he wore the current popular styles of the prefecture, his light brown hair and tanned skin were a dead give away. Not to mention the clearly choppy Japanese he could sometimes hear from the foreigner’s direction."McCree is after the bounty on the Shimada family's heads.He goes after Genji to start, which is his first mistake.





	Speak your Mind

Crisp, cold wind bit at the exposed skin beneath his scarf. Cheeks turning red from frigid January, he quickly huddled inside the warm hostel. Politely nodding at the hostess, he turned down the small hallway to his room. Immediately a burst of warm air washed over him and he sighed, relieved, locking the door behind with a soft click.

Unbundling the scarf from around his neck, he sneered. He would never get used to his weird Eastern land. At least they had good heaters, he guessed.

Tossing it off in the direction of a chair (which it hit and then fell to the floor silently), he pulled out his tablet from his pack, relaxing onto the Western-style bed.

Crossing his legs, he pulled out the file for his newest mark. Jotting down a few notes from today’s surveillance activities, he also added a few questions that would preferably be solved before he went in for the money. While the man had quite a handsome sum of money on his head, he wasn’t his final target.

The Shimada family was infamous, well respected, and wealthy. There were many other criminal organizations that wanted them taken care of, not to mention the added bonus of potential government compensation. But in order to get closer to the boss man-  _oyabun_ , the file told him- he would have to work his way up carefully. By posing as a rival organization hitman, he could instigate a war that could expose the Shimada’s boss out of hiding. Or the other organization’s boss (either worked really) as long as he got paid.

Shimada Genji.

He was the most outgoing of the Shimada organization and a direct descendent of the oyabun himself. He was the best target to go for, and potentially the easiest. The Shimada man would go out almost every evening, leaving the residential streets to the nearby metropolis area. Leaving his bodyguards behind, lost in the throngs of wasted patrons, he would slip off to have his own fun without the stiff entourage.

And according to an enclosed document in the file, he was quite the popular patron.

It was child’s play really how easy it was to get to this guy. Which made it even stranger why no one had made an attempt on his life yet. Too many questions and unknowns were still circling the man, and while he might be set for a long time after this kill, he wasn’t about to die just yet.

Closing out of the file, he stretched before placing his tablet aside.

Running a hand through his hair- he felt damn naked without his hat- he slid off the bed to go grab whatever the hostel’s cooks prepared for dinner.

 

* * *

 

Genji Shimada, though outgoing and carefree, was not a fool.

He knew the whispers among his organization about being a liability. He knew there were many people who wanted him dead. And he knew there was someone watching him now. While his bodyguards provided pure muscle to protect him from a street brawl or any unwanted company, it was more for show than protection.

Actually, if anything, the bodyguards surrounding Genji prevented him from hurting anyone who looked at him wrong.

That didn’t mean his carefree attitude was a ruse, Genji genuinely enjoyed his time just being in the gardens of his home or out on the town, drinking Yamazaki whiskey and enjoying mixed company.

But Genji was not a fool.

The stranger watching from every other corner, rooftop, or tree branch, was clearly a foreigner. Though he wore the current popular styles of the prefecture, his light brown hair and tanned skin were a dead give away. Not to mention the clearly choppy Japanese he could sometimes hear from the foreigner’s direction. They would talk to nearby merchants or citizens, all while keeping track of Genji out of the corner of their eyes.

It would not be unheard for other organizations to hire foreign help with unwanted rivals. Of course, the Shimada household was not the most powerful of all, but they were wealthy, their reach was expansive and their members were loyal to almost a fault.

Genji would not be the one to approach the foreigner. He would play naive; all smiles until the foreigner misstepped and made an attempt on his life.

Genji was outgoing and carefree, yes, this was obvious to everyone. Those he worked with knew he was strong, passionate in his shinobi training, and even witty on occasion.

His brother knew he was capable; though had his own doubts, easily swayed by others opinions of his baby brother.

Only his dad, the oyabun, truly knew of Genji’s true strengths. He may have spoiled the younger Shimada more than he needed to, dismissive of his advisors to his son’s potential liability. But he knew beyond a doubt that Genji was capable of taking care of himself. Because Genji was not a fool.

He would wait for the cat to pounce on the small sparrow.

However, what the cat doesn’t realize is that the small defenseless sparrow was constantly watching, observant, ready to strike at a moment’s notice.

This particular sparrow was a bird of prey.

And Genji was exceptionally patient for his next meal.

 

* * *

  

It had been a week but to no avail. The questions Jesse had written down remained unsolved, the mystery surrounding them only growing in his mind.

They gnawed at the back corner of his brain, creating both doubts in his mind and holes in his otherwise perfect analysis of the target. McCree realized early on that Genji was a strong warrior. He had seen glimpses of his training on the Shimada’s sparring grounds, leaving the training dummies in pieces underneath the sharp blade of his katana.

Yet, he was still surrounded by bodyguards whenever he ventured outside the Shimada’s property.

Even his fellow members marked him as a liability; their whispers sometimes loud enough to even be heard by Genji. But he didn’t appear even slightly bothered by the comments. Was his pride in his abilities really so high? Or was he just an idiot that thought his dad would always protect him?

Meanwhile, time still ticked by. By the end of the week, his hostel bill was beginning to pile higher than he would have liked.

He had to make a move soon. So, the next morning he tucked his ten-gallon hat inside his satchel for good luck, throwing it over his shoulder as he concealed his six-shooter inside his long coat. He remembered to tuck a symbol of a rival organization in his pocket to later pin on Genji after he died.

Deciding to forgo the itchy scarf today, he stepped out of the hostel into the residential streets, mentally preparing for the inevitable kill today.

He wasn't prepared for Genji to be so silent. There was nary a peep out of the younger Shimada brother that morning or afternoon. He had even seen Hanzo, the older brother, which was quite rare. He could count on one finger how many other times he had seen the other Shimada brother the prior week and a half.

It stirred some unease deep in Jesse’s gut. But surely, surely, Genji would go out of the evening, as he usually did.

He was not sure what to think when it was already almost midnight and he not seen even a hair of Genji. He knew Genji did not talk much, and what he did say he could never make out properly. He was soft spoken, despite his extraverted attitude.

Yet there was never silence when Genji was present. He was always around people that were conversation starters, excited to tell him the newest gossip or anything else he might be interested in; the tips of their tongues never stopping until they got his attention. There was always chatter; sometimes too much in Jesse’s honest opinion.

This behavior was strange and foreboding and Jesse knew deep down that something was up.

But Jesse was also fed up with waiting.

He was in that damn tree nearly all day and he was hungry and irritated. The original plan was scrapped in favor of just breaking and entering.

Jesse McCree was a man of many talents, and he liked to think stealth was part of that particular pool.

He slipped fairly silently through the mansion. The file he received about the Shimada boy already mapped a layout of the house and the possible location of Genji’s bedroom within it.

Gently sliding the screen door open, he remained low to the ground as he soundlessly closed it behind him.

It certainly resembled what he imagined Genji’s bedroom would look like. His ninja gear was mounted on the wall, kept on display between training sessions. There was a framed picture of Genji with his brother and dad hung on his wall in between two long scrolls, each containing a traditional painting of a single dragon.

Still, there was something out of place. The one thing that made Genji’s room his own was missing: Genji.

Wherever the Shimada boy went, he certainly wasn’t here.

Cursing quietly to himself, McCree turned to exit the room. But before he could reach out far enough to open the screen door, he felt a sharp sensation across his shoulder blades followed by something warm starting to spill down his back.

He jolted away from the door, spinning around to face his attacker.

The katana was gone from its wall holster. Instead, it was held in the right hand of his would-be target, blood dripping from the apex that was dangerously close to him.

 


End file.
